All In a Day's Work
by ConfusionMakesTheWorld
Summary: It has been several years since the events in Sleepy Hollow. Ichabod Crane lives in New York with Young Masbeth and his wife Katrina. Unfortunately, home life has gone sour and for some reason, work doesn't look so bleak. Ichabod/Katrina, Ichabod/OC
1. Murder in the Air

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Sleepy Hollow. I only claim the events in my story.**

**Warning: There is language, violence, and sex in this story.**

* * *

"YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down."

"HE KILLED HER! HE KILLED ME SISTER!"

"And we're taking care of that, but if you would please-"

"KILL HIM! PUT HIM IN HER PLACE SO HE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS! YE'VE GOT A PISTOL!"

"I can't do that, ma'am. All will be justified by the law. Now I need you to calm down. We don't need two arrests tonight."

Edward Greeves then led the hysterical woman on, escorting her to the nearby courthouse. Others would take care of the corpse and the criminal. In the meantime, she needed to be questioned.

He calmed her down as he led her on, until she was eventually in a calm state.

"Constable, there was a murder at 5th and Syracuse. This is our only witness," Edward explained upon entry to the building. The man he was speaking to nodded and led on to another room. The woman sat, as did the man.

Edward left the room. This was a justified man he left the woman with, and he most certainly knew how to put clues together. It was just the matter of if the higher court marshals would actually use them.

"Madam, do you find yourself to be a state capable of explaining tonight."

The woman nodded.

"Now, I'm going to have to ask your name. Do you mind giving it?"

"Eleanor McDaniels."

"Ms. McDaniels, can you identify tonight's victim?"

"Me sister, Grace."

"And did you and your sister know the assailant?"

"Don Rice."

"How did you know Mr. Rice?"

"He was…HE WAS HER FUCKING FIANCEE!"

"Ms. McDaniels, please calm down and keep the foul language to a minimum. For now, we just need basic facts. Here," the constable offered the woman a handkerchief.

Eleanor cried into it for a moment, and then after taking a few deep breaths, wiped her face and handed it back.

"Now Ms. McDaniels, do you mind telling me how the assault started? Or, for that matter, where you were and what prodded it?"

"We was in our apartment, Grace and I. We shared the place and she had invited Don over. We had dinner together and then I went out to give the two some alone time. I went down to me friend Jennifer Connoly's for some gossip. This was about 8 when I left. I came back around 10. And there _he_ was, just standin' o'er 'er corpse, that BASTARD!"

"Please, Ms. McDaniels. Now, did you see any incriminating hints to make you believe he did it?"

"'E 'ad a knife," she replied, her accent Irish accent thickening as she became more upset, "And there was stabs all in 'er chest! Tha' BASTARD!"

"Ms. McDaniels, if you please, I guarantee you we have the best men on the job to take care of all of this."

"And 'oo are you ta be tellin' me tha'?"

"I'm Constable John Smeargout. I know this force, and I know it well. We sent a good man. A brilliant man. He's the only one we have left who's both."

"An' 'oo migh' tha' be?"

"A Constable Ichabod Crane. You have no reason to worry with matters in his hands. Now, thank you for these preliminaries, Ms. McDaniels. I'm sure your lawyer will be with you in the morning. We will get more in depth in details then. Now, try and get a good night's sleep. Why don't you go to your friend Jennifer Connoly's?"

The woman nodded as John began to lead her out. Edward was just outside and proceeded to escort Ms. McDaniels to her friend's. They had basic information, but it was up to Ichabod to tie it together and to try and get the courts to _listen_ this time. Maybe his past trials would help.

"Dear God, I hope," Edward mumbled under his breath.

Ms. McDaniels didn't notice. She was too caught up in the horrors of the past few hours.


	2. On the Job

Ichabod Crane was rounding the corner as quickly as possible. He had been called from his normal patrol to investigate an attack. A murder.

With his long strides his hair flounced about a bit.

"When will it end?" he asked himself as he neared his destination.

Finally skipping up the cobbled steps, he entered the home to find-

one measly detective on the job.

"What's the matter of this?"

"Hmm?" the detective lazily looked up at Ichabod.

_And to think, he's my superior!_ Ichabod thought.

"Oi, Constable Crane," the detective started upon recognizing the figure before him, "there's been a murder."

"I gathered, Detective Cronwell."

"Righ', well, I'll jus' be leavin' you to yer work then, Constable."

Ichabod nodded, glad to be rid of the oaf.

_The higher one's status, the lower one's IQ. I hate to think what the President is really like in person._

And so, Ichabod opened his bag and took out a few tools. This would take a while, and he really needed his peace to work.

* * *

"CONSTABLE CRANE!"

Ichabod jumped and dropped his tools.

"I'm sorry, sir, it's just that Mrs. Crane-"

"Katrina?!" Ichabod turned, his attention fully caught by the young man before him, the not-so-young Masbeth.

"She, she sent Elouise after me to be sent after you."

"Yes, yes, and…?" Ichabod eagerly asked.

"And she says you're… late for dinner…" the young man mumbled.

"What?! I'm on a case! Does she not realize-"

"Yes, but sir, she's been awfully stressed lately. She was so urgent about everything."

Ichabod looked down to his work and sighed.

"I suppose I have enough gathered here. I'll be right out."

"Mrs. Crane told me I'm not to leave without you."

"Of course, of course."

"Need any help sir?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

Johnathon Masbeth, named for his father, stepped aside for his now somewhat adoptive father to work. The man of 22 had been taken in by Ichabod Crane after his own father's passing years ago. Now he was apprenticing in law, but was at too low a level to work directly with Ichabod Crane. Both had argued against his working with anyone else, considering all the work Masbeth had done alongside Ichabod, but the Burgomaster could not be talked down.

Once Ichabod had his tools gathered, he followed Masbeth outside and they began to make their way home.

"So were you too busy when called away from work?"

"I'm _never_ busy at work, sir. They have me do nothing compared to what I've done alongside you."

"I love this city…" Ichabod mumbled.

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing, nothing…"

And so the two men then made the rest of the way home mostly quiet, only broken occasionally by small talk. Unlike it had been the first few years after Katrina and Masbeth's moving to New York, the two men dreaded coming home. It used to be the highlight of the day. Now, there just wasn't something right about it. Nothing clicked. Masbeth and Ichabod still got along, but the former bond had deteriorated. And, very unfortunately, the bond Ichabod held with his own wife was in shambles. The only happy connections were the ones with Ichabod and Katrina's two daughters, Victoria and Selina. Victoria was the elder, at 7, while Selina was 5. Both parents loved their children immensely, and Masbeth was treated like an elder brother. The young girls, however, were unaware of the troubles that their parents had been having as of late. It was a blessing and a curse.

And then the two ment found themselves at home.


	3. A Not So Simple Home Life

"Where have you been?!"

"At work, dear."

"All day?!"

"Yes, it's what I do every day. It's how we afford our home."

Ichabod spoke with his wife calmly, but there was an exhaustion in his voice. Katrina had become particularly… well, there wasn't even a word for it. Katrina was just hard to handle as of late.

Ichabod and Masbeth sat down at the table wordlessly.

"Daddy!" two voices echoed out as they came charging in.

Ichabod tiredly smiled at his two daughters.

"Hello. And how are my girls doing tonight?" he asked as they sat down on either side of him.

"I made a picture today, Daddy!" Selina exclaimed.

"We've been looking at Mommy's books," Victoria added.

"Oh, and does your mother know about this?"

The two girls shook their heads.

Just then, Katrina entered. Selina put a finger to her lips to let Ichabod know to keep quiet.

Smirking to play along with his daughters, Ichabod asked his wife, "And how has your day been today?"

"I've been running about with the cleaning all day. These two have yet to learn to clean after themselves," Katrina playfully glared at her daughters as she seated herself.

"And do you know what these two told they've done today?"

Both Victoria and Selina let their jaws drop as they looked at their father in horror.

"No, what?" Katrina asked, playing up the stupid act.

"Well Selina said she drew a picture."

"Is that all?"

"No, I don't believe so…"

"I'M SORRY MOMMY!" Selina then burst out. Victoria then just glared back at her sister.

"And why are you sorry?"

And then Victoria lost it too.

"We were looking at your books!"

Katrina rose a single eyebrow.

"Is that right?"

"Apparently so," Ichabod grinned.

"I think that means no desert…" Katrina played.

The girls frowned and looked down.

"Now let's dig in," Ichabod stated.

The girls continued to not look up.

"Don't you like my cooking?" Katrina play moped.

The girls just looked down.

"You won't even eat if you're promised desert?" she asked.

Selina looked down still, but Victoria looked up as she was beginning to catch on.

"Do you mean…?"

"It's fine, girls. I love that you're interested in my books. There's nothing for me to hide from you in there."

Much happier then, the girls dug in and the whole family was able to continue their dinner.

* * *

Later that evening, after the girls had gone to bed and Masbeth was in the study reading, Katrina and Ichabod found themselves in the bedroom getting ready for bed.

"Who is she?"

Ichabod looked up from setting up his side of the bed.

"What?"

"Who is she?"

"I don't get your meaning."

Katrina then turned and glowered harshly at Ichabod, tears now streaming down her face.

"Don't tell me that! I know that you're sneaking behind my back! That's why you're gone all the time!"

Unable to speak, Ichabod's mouth just opened and closed repeatedly.

"I-I-I-"

"I knew it!"

"No! I've been working my ass off for _you_! You and the girls! I love you! I'm not capable of even _thinking_ of doing such a thing!"

Ichabod made his way forward and pulled Katrina into a hug. He placed his chin atop her head as he let her cry.

"Sh, sh, I love you."

He kissed the top of her head. When she relaxed, she pulled away and looked up at him.

"Wh-what's going on with us?"

"Nothing we can't take care of."

Ichabod continued to soothe her as they made their way in bed. They were laying next to each other with his arm around her as she nuzzled into his shoulder.

"Love me," she mumbled.

"I do love you."

"We haven't done it in so long."

"Well you're not exactly in any condition to do that at the moment, don't you think?"

"You find me disgusting. You don't want me anymore."

"No, no, no! I love you!"

"You love me but you don't want me."

Ichabod turned and kissed Katrina gently on the lips.

"I love you and would never want anyone but you."

"Then love me."

"I don't think-"

But then Katrina pulled Ichabod down into another kiss. It was desperate and needy, as if she thought she would never get this opportunity again.

Hurridly she undid Ichabod's shirt. She then rolled over so she was on top and began to kiss down his chest as she undid his pants.

"Katrina- really I- _oh_."

Katrina had her mouth latched onto Ichabod as she lingered along on it.

As she took him near the edge, she then broke away. She smiled down on him as she pulled off her slip. Ichabod then took over on top.

His lips were on her right nipple, nibbling slowly as he let his fingers travel down to her nether regions. Reaching in, he found her core and worked her leisurely, bringing her near her own climax, but withdrawing before she could.

Ichabod then placed himself between her legs, and gradually eased in. He leaned down and kissed her once all the way in. After letting her adjust a moment, he began a steady pace with her. Katrina wrapped her legs and arms around him, trying to push him to go faster, but he continued the gradual pace.

"Just fuck me!" she cried out.

Shocked by her words, Ichabod stopped all together. And that's when Katrina flipped them over and took charge. She rode him at a manic pace, begging for release. It wasn't long before she cried out at climax, and pulled him in not long after.

Katrina then flopped off of him and layed with her back turned. Ichabod, still breathing heavily, turned and tried to wrap an arm around her, but she just pushed it off.

_There's more wrong here than I realized_, Ichabod sadly thought. What had happened to his marriage after only 8 years?


	4. The Joys of Miscommunication

Ichabod rose early, 5am to be exact. He readied himself for work, and then gave his wife and daughters each a peck on the head. He was then off to work on his newest case.

The night before Ichabod had been fortunate enough to find a fellow constable trustworthy enough to take his samples and run a few tests on them. Ichabod was off first to see this fellow, to find any possible leads.

"William?" he cautiously called, sometime later as he peaked his head in through a doorway a few blocks from his own home.

"Ichabod? Is that you?"

Ichabod smiled and stepped fully inside.

"Why it is indeed. Hope I haven't woken you or interrupted you in any manner."

"Oh no, no, no. You're never a bother. In fact, it seems to me you have impeccable timing."

"If only," Ichabod let off wistfully, before bringing his thoughts back to work, "So yes, how did the tests come up?"

"Well according to my findings," the man of 47 began, pushing his glasses up his nose, unaware of his Bozo the clown style grey hair, "the killer was no man."

"Not a man?"

"He couldn't have been. Your pressure readings from the stab wounds were low, as were the testosterone levels."

"Incredible. This case got much more interesting, but much more difficult at the same time. Thank you William, but I'm afraid this meeting will have to be cut short for I must be off."

"I understand, Ichabod. It's always a pleasure, though. You and Katrina need to come by for dinner again some time soon," William called out happily as Ichabod made his way out the door.

"Of course, old friend!"

And then Ichabod was out the door. But not five minutes later, Ichabod heard his name being called.

"Constable Crane! Constable Crane!"

Turning to face his addresser, he rose a single eyebrow while speaking, "Yes? How can I help you?"

"Constable, they've taken Don Rice into custody. The fiancée. They want you to come down."

Ichabod nodded to the younger man.

"Thank you Constable Greeves. I can come now."

* * *

Later, once Edward had led Ichabod down to the courthouse, a deep frown was found on the elder man's face.

"Problem, Constable Crane?"

"Why are we at the courthouse? The proper questioning has yet to take place, or so I would assume."

"I know, sir, but this is where they're holding the questioning. Before a jury."

"_Before a jury?!_ They can't do that! It's illegal! With a questioning he has the rights of privacy! Does the legal system not care for itself anymore?!"

"That's not all, Constable Crane. Mr. Rice came in with a lawyer."

"He could afford a lawyer?"

"A Heather Kohl."

"A woman? Really?"

"So the press is here."

"The press?"

"Constable," Edward began, "it's already in the papers. We're the wreck portrayed. This is a hope of cleanup work."

"Fantastic," Ichabod couldn't help but dryly let out, "Well, thank you Constable Greeves. I'll handle this to the best of my ability."

"I know you will Constable Crane. The best of luck to you."


	5. Frustrating Standards

"So Mr. Crane, how does it feel to be working your first failed case?"

Ichabod darted a look at the reporter but then simply muttered "No comment" as he continued on.

"Crane!"

Ichabod spun around on his heels and then literally slammed up against the Burgomaster.

"You're late."

"I was not delivered a time of arrival, sir, and I am early by typical standards."

"But these are not typical standards."

"I understand that, sir, but no one made it evident to me of new circumstances until about 10 minutes ago. And he was not sent."

"But you should just know."

"And how, sir, would I do that?"

"It doesn't matter to me. I'm not the one with a job on the line," the man replied, then casually walking away.

Ichabod opened and closed his mouth a few times.

His job was _at risk_? He had been serving here for 17 years! How could his job be at risk?!

"On the line, sir?" he then tried to call out to the Burgomaster.

"That's right, Crane."

Slightly bug-eyed then, Ichabod made his way around through the doorways and into the main courtroom. He saw a nervous looking fellow that was probably in his late 40's or early 50's alongside a woman who looked Ichbod's age in her early to mid 30's.

Bringing back his core professionalism, Ichabod sat down and gathered together what little information he had scrounged together that was with him.

"It is now time for the questioning of Mister Don Rice over the matters of the murder of Grace McDaniels."

Ichabod could not believe how openly this information was being given, with reporters _right there_ and what was the point of having a jury for this? It was needless frivolity.

"Mr. Rice," Ichabod began, "can you please explain your whereabouts on the night of the murder?"

The man whispered into the woman's ear, and to Ichabod's surprise, she spoke instead of him.

"My client feels that it is needless to answer that question."

"But it's the entire point of the questioning. No follow-ups can take place without an answer as to where he was."

"My client stands by his wish not to answer."

Looking a bit flustered then, Ichabod shuffled through a few papers before speaking once more.

"What were your relations with Grace McDaniels?"

Once again the man whispered in the woman's ear and she spoke up.

"My client wishes not to answer."

"Mrs.-"

"Miss."

"Miss Kohl, do you understand that without answering these questions Mr. Rice _will_ have to go to court and officially be tried for this murder?"

The man grew incredibly pale and whispered frantically into his lawyer's ear.

"He still will not answer," she then replied, and Don looked surprised by Heather's words.

"With that then," the Burgomaster began, "we will end the questioning and review the answers. Further information will be sent out to the necessary individuals by the end of the week."

Ichabod blinked hard, taken aback by the speed and utter uselessness of what had taken place. And seemingly not by the accused's will.

* * *

When Ichabod made his way outside, he was met by both Edward and Masbeth.

"How did it go, Constable?" Edward quickly asked.

"Well, I-"

"Did the press bother you?" Masbeth interjected.

"Yes, but-"

"Was she really a woman?" Edward added.

"She-"

"Was the jury a bother?" Masbeth further inquired.

"Could you both please give me a moment to breathe?" Ichabod let out, with a bit too much frustration in his voice.

The two young men quickly quieted themselves and let Ichabod compose himself.

"Now then," Ichabod began, after a moment, "The jury was not given a chance to speak, but I cannot help but believe they will be used in the trial, which is inevitable, but that gives them unfair access to information. The press gave me a slight hussle when I entered, but they were easily brushed aside. It was Miss Heather Kohl that was the biggest struggle."

"Did she try to seduce the Burgomaster?" Edward asked.

"I don't believe so but-" Ichabod cut himself off to give Edward a questioning look, but shook it off and continued, "She wouldn't allow Mr. Rice to speak, and I do not think that she accurately portrayed his best interests."

"So what happens now?" Masbeth inquired.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I do know I want to find out more about Miss Kohl. Constable Greeves, do you believe that you can access records on the lawyer?"

Edward nodded.

"And Masbeth, I wish I could have you work alongside me, but with the strict orders of your apprenticeship we have no choice."

"Actually…" Masbeth grinned slyly.

"Actually? Might this be a good actually?"

"I've been promoted to Jr. Constable and they said I could choose to work with any constable that is more than 5 years from retirement and has worked on at least 30 cases."

"That's wonderful! Well in that case why don't you accompany Edward in digging up information on Miss Kohl?"

"Of course, sir!"

The men then parted ways so Ichabod could go back to the scene to investigate more.

* * *

"What do you _mean _it was found to be a useless mess?!"

Detective Cronwell shrugged his shoulders as Ichabod paced rapidly back and forth before him.

"The evidence needed further examination! I was the only one who obtained any resources and they were only limited!"

"I jus' did what the boss said."

"Of course you did, Detective Cronwell, but I can't understand why on earth they would find it necessary to have you do so!"

Ichabod stopped directly in front of Detective Cronwell then.

"I… I suppose I could speak with the sister," he mused, "though her memory can't be the most trusted-"

"Aaah!!"

"Wha' was that?" Detective Cronwell asked, peering round Ichabod as if the answer were hidden behind the younger man's back.

"A scream. I'm going to investigate," Ichabod returned, making his way out the door, to find the source directly on the steps.


End file.
